


Shake The Heavy Weight.

by Desrow



Category: Homestuck, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Original Character(s), Spoilers, dont drink and write, mentions of nightterrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desrow/pseuds/Desrow
Summary: You dreams of lives that arent yours and when you awake theres nothing to prove the memories are yours outside of the fire under your skin.  If you tell someone you're unsure if you will be to pull yourself out of those memories and back into your own.





	Shake The Heavy Weight.

**Author's Note:**

> Comes from an AU Im doing in an RP where Dave and Karkat end up in a Diet!Candy timeline, adopting two children and one is a grub. Said grub I love a lot and wanted to explore the idea that as a Mage Of Blood she might have overwheming connections to her family that she sufferers from, especially in the form of nightmares. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy and keep in mind drunk writing is a bad idea. 
> 
> I may revisit or add on another part at some point.

_ >Kankri: Tag your Trigger Warnings _

 

_ If y9u knew what a human m9ther was, y9u w9uld tell P9rrim t9 st9p acting like y9urs. Y9u think that perhaps a m9rial with extra c9ddling is the cl9sest translati9n y9u can find. If y9u are g9ing t9 die, it feels fitting that y9u are g9ing t9 die with P9rrim trying t9 m9ther y9u, even th9ugh that is s9mewhat cultural appr9priati9n 9f the term as tr9lls d9 n9t have the same clade relati9nships with this species that y9u d9 n9t kn9w yet exist. 6ut y9u will still tag y9ur as #tw:Culturalappr9priati9n9faterm. The inner m9n9l9guing is en9ugh t9 distract y9u fr9m the fact y9u are a69ut t9 die, when y9ur c9ddler says s9mething t9 y9u it is l9st in the 6right was 9f light and the heat that f9r a single m9ment heats y9ur 6l99d t9 new extremes. _

  
  


_ >Troll: Dreams about Another Death. _

 

You want to curse the  _ gods _ as your eyes open.

 

There's a fire in your blood as you jolt awake. It washes over you and soon you can forget that it existed. You wish that nightmares where not a genetic imprint of sorts on your entire species, at least that's what you tell yourself in the dark hours of the morning to convince yourself that there is nothing wrong. 

 

There is something wrong, you are dreaming about people dying yet  _ again _ . You know that if you go to your parents that they will try to coddle you into a mindset that allows sleep but right now? You cannot handle trying to explain why you have seen a look alike of your Troll Dad and his beloved pale bleached to white bones and nothing else. 

 

_ The heat isn't under your skin anymore but you can still feel the branding burns around your wrists and into your very soul. _

 

With a quick peek that your hatchmate is snug asleep in her resting platform, you pull up the sleeve of your night shirt to double check, just in case you have iron imprints in the skin. If you focus too hard on the memory of the burning irons, you can hear the screams of the olive blood and the snarls from the drinker. The taste of blood and curses of the most improper kinds of language still sit in your mouth, so you grab the really shitty soda that you swiped from no one in particular and chug like your life depends on it. Grape tastes a lot better than the memory of fucking up so bad that your entire clade will be punished in your place.

 

When you focus too hard it becomes even harder to pull yourself back into your own head instead of someone else's.

 

You don't want to think about how much you pity the olive blood or how the way the archers body language makes you flood with a jealous rage that you may have broken off one of his horns had it not been for the slight issue that, oh yeah, you're currently being culled. Put that on the calendar next to making sure that Mother has had enough to drink and your beloved has enough paper to bind her next book, she really does go through those rather fast.

You need to bite your hand to snap out of it but it works.

 

It can be hard not to get lost in other people's relationships but you need to focus on other things, like the fact that you are chugging shitty grape soda to get rid of the fire under your skin that started up again. You can't handle being immersed in slime and in this room, so you double check that she's still asleep and climb out of the coon. Your slime covered night clothes are left for your future self to deal with in the morning. Instead you quickly pull on a dress that you would never wear . you didn't care about the fact the remaining sopor slime will most likely leave patchy lime stains in the fabric after all and the thing looked like a rejected  _ Earth C’s Next Top Seamtercutters  _ first day project. You don't remember who even got you it, maybe one of your dad or it was a rough attempt from your cousin? 4

 

Who knows.   _ Who really cares? _

  
Still, getting out of the window is easy and the drop doesn't do much to a troll like you. You where bred and designed for things tougher than a well-placed jump from a respite block window after all. You really shouldn't be out this late at night, even if you can see better in this than the daytime there is still a bias that a young troll walking around is somehow planning something illegal. Gods, you really hope you don't get dragged back home again. It is already bad enough that there is talk of Troll Dad might be running against one of the other gods. His offspring getting in trouble is just what they don't need.

 

The streets are empty and you like it, you could see yourself spending the rest of your life in the darkness. It hurts your eyes less, to the point that you don't need to wear your shades. Pretending that its some kind of ironic act is nice, protects you from the reality that some genetic fluke left you with your grub eyes. That light still hurts and your other senses are easier to deal with. Would a human law enforcer think they are cute like some trolls do? A little grub trait like subvocalization or having mealworms as a preferred snack? Maybe that's why you make bad choices, at least you think? You don't really get along with other people, they are confusing and either back off as soon as they realise your family are real life gods or on the flip side try to harass you for information. Mostly its teenagers asking about jake and his ass, you don't want to think about Jakes ass when its on TV one minute and telling you the best way to ride a wild Prong Beast the next!

 

Maybe that's why you ended up friends with a purple blood? They get a bad name for themselves and some still worship a double faced messiah that you know a friend of Troll Dads fought long ago. In the other universe? It never really makes much sense to you when they talk about before but it seemed like they are trying their best to adapt to explaining things like multi universal paradoxes and such? 

 

_ Gods, you're too tired for this kind of bullshit. _

  
  


> Troll: knock. 

 

So that's how you ended up at purplefriends hive, knocking on his door because you know that he will be expecting you. He always just seemed to have an idea of when you are going to be around. Still, it doesn't take much to end up sitting on his hives roof with a bottle of god awful cherry soda swapped between you and the sun starting to rise over the treeline of the troll kingdom. 

 

“ I jutht, I'm unthure 0f what t0 make 0f the wh0le thin? If I tell my parentth then  _ 600m _ , an entire  _ religi0uth panthe0n _ will kn0w that I have weird dreamth 6ut that'th n0t weird, right? We have nightmareth, it'th a part 0f uth? If we are really jutht… ” You trail off, for once not spinning out monologues about how dreams are like shopping carts or whatever comes to mind. Instead, you watch your friends reactions with the urge to slip a little bit closer to Marvek beginning to niggle in the back of your mind. Maybe he will look at those sad, mutant grub eyes and take pity on you? It is rather romantic, the idea of coming over to a friends hive and talking all night. 

 

You have it _ bad. _

 

You have it so bad and you're pretty sure that for a moment Marvel's fingers twitch like his hand is wanting to reach over to soothe you. 

 

Then you remember the dreams where the olive blood is bleeding out and you shy away from him, under the pretence of deepthroating the soda. You don't know what it does to humans but for you the feeling is a calm buzz that soothes away the burning heat. 

 

Instead of pressing the issue, he begins to talk in that soft almost melody that makes you relax “ _ Grubbie _ , you gotta take a moment to see the bright side of these things, you hear me? Sometimes you just gotta look at the bigger picture and realise that the messiahs have given you a glorious gift, not everyone gets to see their ancestors one on one.”  

 

You forget your nightmares for the now and close your eyes, leaning against your purple friend to think about how you could find a positive outcome to this. 

**Author's Note:**

> When you just can't shake the heavy weight  
> Of living...
> 
> Stepping forward out into the day  
> Shrugging off the dust and memory  
> Though it's soaring still above your head  
> It is out of sight and none shall see"
> 
> Weight of Living, Pt. I


End file.
